


Jaded

by deathtouchwlw (deathtouch)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Complicated Relationships, F/F, Moon skin Moira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtouch/pseuds/deathtouchwlw
Summary: Femfeb 2020 | FanficRock band au with Sombra as the bassist and Moira as the lead singer.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Sombra | Olivia Colomar
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	Jaded

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd! all mistakes are my own.

In their dressing room, Olivia was watching Moira get ready in the mirror. She’d been at it for two fucking hours. God, was there anyone who loved staring at their own face more than Moira O’Deorain? 

Of course, she had to have a new look for every new album. Eras, she called them, like the pretentious bitch she was. This new look was her look worst yet. A face full of white clown make up, a stupid moon painted on her forehead, and bullshit glittery jumpsuits. 

Olivia hadn’t changed her look in the last decade. She still had the same half shaved head she started with back when they were just a noisy punk band playing garbage venues in the seediest clubs of New York and New Jersey and Philadelphia. 

She didn’t spend hours staring at herself in the mirror before shows, either. Going over her lips with the same black lipstick like it wasn’t already perfect. Making kissy faces with pursed lips. Stepping back to admire the low cut of her jumpsuit, and how it showed off her chest. 

She had better ways to spend her time. 

Moira’s eyes caught hers in the mirror. She sat back a little, smirking. “See something you like?” 

“Hardly,” Olivia scoffed. 

She glanced away quick, knowing full well that she had been staring for too long. She glanced at Amélie sitting on the couch across the way who simply raised an eyebrow at her before turning back to her phone.   
  


* * *

  
Ashe was drumming against the concrete walls, wooden sticks bouncing effortlessly. _Paradiddle-paradiddle-paradiddle._ It had a fast paced, fervent energy to it. There was a sense memory tied to the sound. Just before they went on stage, every time they went on stage, she drummed the walls. 

Olivia felt like she was back in Camden, New Jersey. Their first show out of town. Their first gig with real stage lights. They had opened for the opener. She had actually been nervous. The crowd had been entirely uninterested in them, but it was a hell of a show despite that. 

Olivia felt like she was back in Dublin, Ireland. Their first international tour. Moira’s hometown. The show had sold out in minutes and the venue had been packed. The floor had been filled to capacity and then some. The balcony had been so stuffed that people were jumping over the rail into the waiting crowd below; pure madness. 

Everyone had come out to support Moira and they were all as fucking crazy as she was. The crowd knew all the words and screamed them back, frothing and thrumming with electric energy. It was a miracle that no one had died in a crowd crush that night. 

Olivia felt like she was back in southern California. Their latest festival show. The biggest crowd they had ever played for. She remembered looking up during a break between songs to find people as far as the eye could see. There was no end to the crowd. It just went on, into the horizon, forever and ever.

All those concerts started the exact same way. Ashe drumming against the wall in the staging hallway. 

The opener had ended their set nearly ten minutes ago. The crowd was growing restless, chanting loudly. Amélie was rolling her neck, loosening up. Moira was jumping in place, tiny little hops, getting herself hyped up and ready to go. Olivia’s fingers were dancing over the fretboard of her bass as she played the Sailor’s Hornpipe, a way to limber up. 

“Be inspired,” Moira reminded them. 

Ashe stopped drumming long enough to listen. All their concerts started with this too. A ritual for good luck. A mantra.

“Be impactful. Be influential. And don’t be-“ 

“A fucking idiot.” They all finished together, voices raising to a shout. 

The house lights went dark, and the crowd went wild. Olivia forgot whatever it she was she had been annoyed about in the dressing room to follow their lead singer and lead guitarist, Moira O’Deorain, on stage.   
  


* * *

  
There was nothing in the world like performing. 

There was still a tiny part of Olivia that got scared when she stopped to think about it. A nervous sort of excitement that roiled through her. There were just so many people watching, waiting. She had learned over the years that all she needed to do was give’em a good show. 

She melted into the music, muscle memory moving her fingers through each chorus and verse. She automatically tuned the strings between songs like it was second nature. She didn’t really use picks, but she kept a few spare stuck to her pick guard anyway and thoughtlessly tossed them into the crowd from time to time. 

God, she loved the crowd. She loved to plant her foot on the monitor and lean over the barricade to look everyone in the front row right in their faces. Fans screamed louder every time she drew closer. 

They all had their moments. Three quarters of the way through their set the lights went low and Amélie got a chance to sit at her keyboard and play it like it was a grand piano in a real concert hall. The melody of one of their old singles that they didn’t bother playing in full anymore. 

Ashe got a drum solo during one of the percussion heavy songs. Everything else quieted while she beat all her anger out. It was funny how much of a priss she could be off stage, but when she was behind the kit, she was a goddamned animal. In the best way, of course.

When they played their first hit from their first album, a punk rock banger with all the aggression and anger that had been abandoned in their latest records, Sombra got her chance to shine. The bass lines were much easier back then, so she used that song as her opportunity to climb one of the amp cabinets and launch herself off from the top to crash down thunderously on the stage below. It always got a big pop from the crowd. 

None of that compared to Moira, though. The rest of the band got their moment to shine, but Moira was a beacon. The crowd screamed and cheered for everything she said. They pushed and pulled like a tide, everyone trying to surge forward to get closer to her. They sang along in time with her, voices threading each and every person in the room together. 

Sometimes, Olivia was bitter about it. Yeah, they got their moment in the spotlight during each show. And yeah, Moira went down the line, purring their names and talents into the microphone like the crowd didn’t already know. “Ashe, on the drums. Widowmaker on the piano. Sombra on the bass guitar,” but it always ended the same way. “And me, your leader. Moira.”

Because that was who all the magazines wanted to interview. That was who all the groupies flocked to. That was who ended up in the front of all their photoshoots. 

Even though this whole fucking band was Olivia’s idea. Even though she spent years in the beginning hunting down venues and begging them to let her band play. Even though she busted her ass to make money to buy equipment and a tour van… while Moira was too busy looking pretty, smiling at herself in the mirror. 

Tonight, though? Olivia wasn’t angry. She didn’t have an ounce of bitterness in her. She felt the music like it was moving through her. She felt the excitement of the crowd and it filled her to the brim with nothing but elation and joy. She looked at Moira, center stage, strumming her guitar and singing her fucking heart out and she felt all the love in the world for this woman she had been to hell and back with.   
  


* * *

  
After the show they were all a mess; a gross, sweaty mess. Back when they first started, no one had told them how hot the lights got, or how much stamina you needed to make it through an hour and a half of playing live music, or how fucking sweaty it is on stage. 

Of course, Amélie still looked flawless with her hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, only the back of her neck damp. Ashe had stripped off her shirt though, her blonde hair stuck to the sides of her face. Moira’s stupid clown make up had stayed on, goddamnit. Fucking stage make up. Olivia had been looking for any excuse to tell her to stop wearing it. 

At least these days they could afford hotel rooms for the night; rooms with showers. During their first tour they just had to pile into their van afterwards; all of them exhausted and gross and crammed together with all of their gear. 

Olivia got herself cleaned up enough to leave the venue. There were fans loitering around all the entrances. She was bound to run into them no matter which way she left. Some of them were visibly disappointed when she walked out the side door and not Moira, but she was used to it by now. Others were excited to see her. They gushed about the show and how amazing it had been. She signed things handed to her and stopped for selfies. 

She recognized one of their fans from the Chicago show and the St. Louis show, and from all their shows and their tours they’d gone on before this one. She had a tattoo of their first album’s artwork on her forearm, but Olivia didn’t need to see her tattoo to remember her. She stopped to chat for a minute and thank her for coming out as always. 

Back at the hotel, Olivia showered in cool water. It felt so fucking good. In just her bra and panties she went to sit on the bed, not even in a comfortable position, just the one she happened to land in. Her feet hurt. She thought, not for the first time, that she was getting too old for this shit. 

Wet hair dripping down her back, she scrolled through Twitter and Instagram, looking at their band’s hashtag for the latest show pics. If there were any good ones, she’d repost. She even had a few anonymous side accounts that she used to cruise the fandom and talk to fans. Only some of them though, and only some of the time. If she went too deep it started getting creepy... 

There were so many pictures of Moira on the timeline. Moira with her arms raised, bell sleeves billowing. Moira with her jumpsuit glittering like a disco ball. Moira backlit by the stage lights, a dark figure in the center of everything. Moira from the side with her mouth open and her eyes rolled back as she held a long note. Actually, that was kind of an ugly picture. Olivia double tapped to like it. 

She found other pictures too. 

A picture of Amélie looking serene and blissful at the keyboard. Then a completely contrary picture where Amélie was glaring hatefully at something, and the angle hit just right to make her look like the baddest, meanest, most cold-hearted bitch to ever walk planet Earth. A picture of Ashe standing up behind her kit, pointing with one of her drumsticks, mid yell in a way that made her look like she was about to raise hell. 

A picture of Olivia standing with one foot planted on the monitor, leaning over the barricade, tongue stuck out playfully. A set of three pictures telling a story; Olivia climbing the amps, Olivia getting ready to jump, and Olivia midair. She smirked and double tapped those too. 

The picture she got stuck on was a shot of her bathed in purple lighting. She was looking off to the side, a dopey smile on her face, a stupid in-love expression. 

She was looking at Moira.   
  


* * *

  
Moira showed up at the hotel room far later. Her black lipstick had been kissed off. There were red marks on her neck and down her chest. She had never been very good at saying no to pretty girls. Hell, back in the day, Olivia hadn’t been either.

Moira draped herself elegantly over Olivia’s frame, kissing her shoulder and then her neck. Olivia was sitting on the mattress, hunched over her phone. She could tell that Moira was still keyed up from the show, thrumming with the energy the crowd had poured into her. 

Moira kissed her way up to Olivia’s ear and bit at her earlobe. “Come now,” she purred. “I can think of better things for you to do than this.” She reached around to slip Olivia’s phone from her fingers, tossing it aside, before capturing the side of her neck in another open-mouthed kiss. 

A kiss that made Olivia want to melt. A kiss that reminded her of all the other times Moira had kissed her before.

Olivia felt like she was back in the back room of the record store, her first job. She had been a high school drop-out and Moira was the bitchy university student with pretentious taste in music, too tall and confident for her own good. She always came around to pick through the vinyl like there might be gold in there. 

Then she stopped coming around for the records and started coming around for Olivia. Olivia lost her job for spending more making out in the back room than making sales behind the register, but she was okay with that. Losing that job had given her more time to pursue a career in music after all. 

Olivia felt like she was back in their shared flat in Washington Heights, laying naked in their shared bed. Well. Shared mattress. Kisses bruised into her neck, her thighs, her breasts. Moira reciting the lyrics she had written for the EP they were working on. 

Olivia felt like she was back in one of the seedy motels they had stayed in on their first, second, and third tour. When they could afford a motel for the night. Most times they slept in the van. Am and Ashe trying desperately to ignore the squeaking of the springs in the bed next to them as Moira and Olivia went at it in the dark. 

Any resentment she felt for Moira was lost. She let herself be pulled back onto the bed. She let Moira fuck her like they hadn’t fucked the night before, and the night before that. 

She let herself be in love like she wasn’t a jaded rock star.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking femslash february suggestions year round  
> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
> femfeb '20 masterpost ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx/status/1223794127822839808?s=20)  
> follow me on twitter ➝ [here](https://twitter.com/deathtouchxx)  
> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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